Ever Present
by Ego Amorem Deum
Summary: Arthur comes back, but Merlin having been so alone for so long believes he's imagining it. Is there any Merlin left for Arthur or is sixteen hundred years an unbridgeable chasm?
1. Chapter 1

**Merlin forced a sigh. He slipped his hand over the paint-peeled edge of the rowboat and slid his fingers down into the cool waters of the lake. He shut his eyes, forcing his body to relax and let go of...**

 **He laughed hollowly. Is it really relaxation if you force yourself to un-tense your body which, for the past sixteen-hundred years, had not known rest? Ironic, really. But, here Merlin was, on a boat drifting lazily across this watery expanse and wondering where had all the time truly gone. Albion was no longer Albion and Camelot was relegated to high fantasy. What a piece of work is man! Of all the glory of Camelot, Geoffrey of Monmouth's chronology was all that remained and he didn't get the half of it right. Merlin snorted at the memory, and found himself smiling at flashbacks of the man. He did help as best he could. If only historians knew the whole story.**

 **Sunlight flicked across the water as if Puck, the mischievous fae himself, had picked a plethora of shining stones and skipped them all at once. Cicadas thrummed and wind made hushing sounds through the rushes. It was for certain one of the more peaceful days Merlin had lived.** _Sixteen-hundred years... Surely he would have risen by now._ **Merlin fought the thoughts, but they still appeared like nasty tranquility-stealing little goblins. It was true, though. War, plague, famine, all had lashed the land in their seasons, but where was the once and future king? Could it simply have been a lie and if not,**

" **Then why am I still here?" Merlin rasped, his voice heavily affected from disuse. A single tear trailed down his pale cheek, followed by another and another until his body began to shed a millennia's worth of tears. The lake witnessed his sorrow with open arms, and nature continued in its song, a calm lullaby to soothe his troubled soul.**

 **—**

 **AN: I don't own any of Merlin. I also plan to pick up all of my fanfics where I left off. Ciao for now.**


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had almost set when Merlin rowed the boat up to the docks. He grabbed rope from the centre thwart, tied it around a bollard, and hoisted himself up onto the dock.

"How'd you find the boat, love?" Mrs. McCreedy inquired while dusting Merlin off.

"S'great ma'am. Always a relaxing thing, paddling," Merlin smiled down at the little old woman. She reminded him of quite a few grandmothers he had met through the years. Small, warm, a bit plump from all of the children she's had and from tasting the cooking she's done for the grandchildren. She patted down her blue and white checkered apron, returning his smile with a rosy one of her own.

"That's lovely, dear. Now, will you be over for supper? John is grilling tonight and some of the little ones will be coming over." Merlin smiled freely, as if all of the tears he had shed had been in his imagination alone. He offered Mrs. McCreedy an arm on which to lean.

A quick "I would love to, ma'am," and then they were off. Mrs. McCreedy twitted all the way, commenting on his unruly black hair and thin frame. She was sure he just needed to eat properly. Sure, he went to the gym, but obviously he wasn't eating or else he would be bigger. Merlin smiled and nodded. What could he say except that he would assuredly eat more just so she wouldn't worry.

They crossed down the dock and onto a wide cobbled path. Night, a thick black blanket with twinkling stars, settled in comfortably. Merlin heard laughter in the distance and knew Mauve and Gertrude were presently chasing London around the garden, desperate to get him to sit so they could dress his furry body in their little costumes. Terrible twins, really, Merlin chuckled to himself.

"I can hear the girls, Mrs. McCreedy. Must be giving London a wild time. That poor dog."

"Oh, no! I forgot all about London! I'm sure they've giving him an absolute fit." The pair crossed the wide expanse of the back yard and came to a little wicker gate covered in ivy. Merlin swung it open for the elderly woman and she fussed after the twins for harassing her beloved terrier.

A meaty hand heartily clapped Merlin on the back.

"Merlin, my boy! Good to see you staying for once!" Mr. McCreedy was a jolly man, truly Cornish with his fisherman's smock and bucket cap. "I know it's your last day working and we sure appreciate when you come for the summers."

"Meur ras, Mr. McCreedy. It's always fun to get away from the north."

"Kows orthiv yn Kernewek? Why Merlin you're quite full of surprises!" The old man's eyes twinkled. "But you speak a little strangely. You must speak Welsh very well."

"Oh, I do. I grew up speaking Welsh," Merlin divulged."Makes my Cornish look like baby babble."

"We'll have to discuss this over dinner," he lumbered toward the grill. "Before I forget. Your landlady called," Mr. McCreedy waved a sauce brush at him. "She said you've had a persistent visitor since you've left." Merlin grabbed the brush and coated the beef in sauce. Mr. Mcreedy carried on, "she described it as a bit urgent, so it may be good that you're leaving a few weeks early." Merlin's his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Did she say who it was?"

"Hmm, some blonde bloke. Tall, very serious. Said his name was Arthur...something. Oh what was it now? Ah, yes. Arthur Pendragon."


	3. A Note

**Quick AN: I will be uploading the next chapter in three and a half hours, but I just received notifications which made me chuckle and I had to respond to them.**

 **To all who have left a review, positive or negative, thank you. Your time is valuable and I appreciate that it was spent engaging in my story regardless of the taste it left in your mouth.**

 **gingeraffealene: I saw your comment and laughed. My plans were already set in stone before I saw your comment (and have not changed since reading your comment), and so I hope the next chapter will make you smile. You're charming. Hope you keep reading.**

 **nienor: your comment intrigued me. I've been learning Welsh since I was 16 and am now 25. I know that there are at least three dying languages in Britain which is heart breaking. I used to have a Welsh email pal who taught me a lot, but I have since lost touch. If you or anyone you know would be willing to have me as a pen pal and bear with my childlike Welsh enough to help me grow in it, I'd be honored. It's a shame that government funds aren't allocated to help preserve these distinguished languages. Thank you for the knowledge you gave me, since it has given me insight. Hope to see more from you. Prynhawn da, doll.**

 **The actual motive for writing this came from an AU post I saw on Instagram. If you end up reading this, obsessed_with_merther, I hope you like it.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Merlin's heart stopped. Damn. Merlin made a pained expression he couldn't control. Mr. McCreedy's neat mustache quivered as his lips curled into a smile.**

" **S'pose this fellow is a bit of trouble for you?" Merlin sheepishly shrugged, and forced a smile.**

" **Yeah. Met the bloke at a coffee shop. His real name isn't Arthur. It's Wilbur Potts," Merlin explained, "but he must have seen that BBC show and got attached simply 'cause my name's Merlin. He likes to pop around and discuss the legend." It was true he called himself Arthur Pendragon, but it was a sentiment that hurt Merlin deeply though he hadn't the heart to stop Wilbur. The guy was lonely and Merlin knew too well the agony of being lonely.**

 **The elderly gentleman signaled to Merlin to grab a serving plate so he could laden it with wheal rose sausages and lamb racks.**

" **Ah," the old man sighed, "it's not every day one makes a friend. The half cannot hate that which makes it whole, you know."**

" **Yeah, you're ri—," Merlin stopped mid sentence, almost dropping the platter.**

" **Whoa! Merlin, you almost done me in from a heart attack! I got those meats from Tregullow and it took me all day!" Mr. McCreedy eyed Merlin.**

" **I'm sorry, I got dizzy," he lied. "What did you say?"**

" **The half cannot hate that which makes it whole. Don't rightly remember where I heard it from, but it fits you." The two men gathered supplies and made their way to the dining room in the cottage.**

" **The way I see it Merlin, is you're a lonely fellow. You come and help us every summer, but you're always distant as if you're centuries away. If I'm candid, I've seen you talking to yourself a few times." Merlin burned with shame. Mr. McCreedy sat the plates down and grasped Merlin's shoulder. "Ain't nothin' wrong with it. You just have to realize one day that the half you keep pushing out is anyone who tries to be your friend. It's like you're waiting for something when what you've been wanting is right in front of you." Merlin lay a hand over the man's own and smiled.**

" **You're like our grandson, you know. You're welcome here any time."**

—

 **The rest of the evening passed merrily. The meat was juicy and the company sweet. Gertrude and Mauve succumbed to slumber on the couch and London lay on top of them like their very own fur blanket. Merlin and the elderly couple retired to the porch to sip tea and watch the stars twinkle over the fields before them. They sat in silence and in it Merlin thought heavily of what Mr. McCreedy expressed. He was right. He did talk to himself. Merlin was ashamed to admit it, but he did it often and any conversation he had with himself wasn't really for himself. He was speaking to an absent Arthur. The real Arthur. He thought that if he spoke to him as if he were there, he would appear. And, sometimes, when he spoke he spoke so fervently he came to believe he really was seeing Arthur there. Yet he wasn't and Arthur never corporeally materialized. The cool night air blew gently, but it did not cool Merlin's burning cheeks. What a fool he must be, pitiable for trying so hard for something so hopeless. Yet, if he did not hope, what more was there for him? Perhaps, it was time to let go. He had two twins he cared for during the summer and a lovely elderly couple who saw him as family. He had waited for so long and never enjoyed a season of it. What if he could settle down and finally live beyond existing?**

—

" **Alright dear, enjoy your flight to Cardiff. We'll be sure to pick you up next summer." The McCreedy's gathered around Merlin and hugged him close. The twins cried and clung to Merlin's legs. He coughed to hide his tears and walked around with them attached to his legs until they began to laugh. Laughter really does heal the wounds of the heart, he thought.**

 **He went through customs, waved goodbye to his summer family, and then headed off to the plane. He exchanged the lovely coast of Cornwall for the rolling hills of Wales and then set off for his flat.**

 **The building was nice. Not posh, but cozy. It was more than enough for him. He checked his mail at the front and asked the lobbyist if he had any messages.**

" **Yes, a gentleman came calling for you," she chattered. Prunella was a flighty woman. She wore her hair in a strict bun, and hid her grey owl eyes behind large round spectacles. "He said his name was Arthur—"**

" **Pendragon. Yes, I know. His name is Wilbur, really. I'm sure he'll be by again. Just send him up please."**

 **Prunella nodded and hastily scribbled a note as a reminder. Merlin exited left and went up the stairs to his corner flat. He juggled the luggage in search for the key, found it and slid it in. He pushed through the door into his living space. It was a simple area, bare but warm. The walls held Impressionist artwork and the furniture was just the right amount of comfy.**

" **Time to put the kettle on," he called to the absence.**

 **He threw his carry-on at the couch, and marched to the kitchen. It was small and tidy with a yellow theme to bring in a small measure of cheer. He filled the kettle up and was about to place it on the stove top when he heard a knock at the door. He quickly turned the burner on and went to answer it.**

 **Merlin grasped the knob and turned, bracing himself for Wilbur's unending energy and paceless conversation. When he opened the door what he found was not Wilbur, but a blond man with blue eyes and a firm jaw. He had around him an air of responsibility and dignity which made him appear as royalty. When the man saw Merlin his eyes widened and his jaw went imperceptibly slack. He choked on the words he was trying to summon.**

" **Merlin, it's me. Arthur."**


	5. Chapter 4

Arthur Pendragon stood in Merlin's doorway. He reached for Merlin, but Merlin slammed the door.

"Right," Merlin turned his back. "Probably should check the kettle now." He he briskly stepped to the kitchen as a furious banging ensued from the hall outside his apartment. Merlin began to whistle a tune while he removed the kettle and grabbed a cup and saucer from the drying rack. His jerky movements spilled water all over the countertop and onto the linoleum floor.

"Hello?" The frantic man in the hall made Merlin frantic. He turned to humming and then from humming to singing however nothing he tried could dampen the sound. He set the kettle on the table and realized he hadn't grabbed the tea or sugar. How careless.

"Merlin! Hello?" The voice reverberated in the tiny room he occupied. It sounded real, but Merlin had long lived on the line between hallucination and reality. For centuries, it hadn't been easy to distinguish between the two. What made this any different?

Just past the stove top on a high shelf with peeling yellow paint sat the sugar pot. Though there were a few chairs in the way, but he didn't stop to move them. He was tall enough, surely. He got on his tip toes and reached out for the sugar. He put a hand out to steady himself, but his hand landed in water and slipped off the lip of the counter. Merlin crashed down with a heavy thud. His lip busted open on a chair seat and his head racked back then forward planting his face on the kitchen ground with a finality that took his breath away.

"Merlin, you giant girl! Let me in!" Merlin stayed where he landed. Hot tears cascaded down his cheeks and dripped off his lips onto the yellowing tile. He never could get the yellow up no matter how hard he scrubbed…and now it was red with the blood from his lips.

"Merlin. Merlin, it's me. It's Arthur."

The tears streamed down his face, but it wasn't because of the pain. He physically couldn't feel anything.

"You're not real," Merlin whispered to the tile. "I've really gone and lost it this time." The knocking ceased and Merlin's chest only grew tighter. Would he really have to live in this constant state of anxiety? Maybe the years had worn him down so much that he couldn't exist in either state successfully? Did he want the hallucinations or did he want Arthur's complete absence? Could there be peace at any point for him in this world?

Arthur rested a hand on the door before him. Necessity compelled him to grab Merlin. He needed to feel him with his own two hands and smell his scent. He craved the yawning chasm in his soul that Merlin's absence left inside him. Arthur did not lose composure, but he came close. He raised his fist to begin the tirade again, but footsteps behind him stopped him short.

"Oi, wha yah fink yah doin, mate? I could 'ear the row from a mile away!" Arthur cocked an eyebrow and turned around. A territorial stare emanated from this short, stocky man in his early twenties. No more than twenty-two if Arthur hazarded a guess. He had a heavy commoner's accent which rubbed Arthur wrong. He may have to play by a new world's rules, but he still embodied the heart of royalty.

"I believe what I am doing is knocking on Merlin's door," Arthur leveled with the gentlemen…if he could call him that. The man wasn't well kept and he smelled absolutely stale.

"Well, if'n 'e ain't answered, then 'e probly doesn't want nuffin to do wiv yah." The man squared his shoulders back. He was built like a badger with a mop of mousy brown hair and dull black eyes. Truly an unremarkable specimen, Arthur seethed.

"Yes. Astute observation. However, this is personal and I need to see him."

"Well, I don't fink yah need t'do anyfin 'cept maybe piss off."

"Who are you?"

"M'name's Pendragon. Tha's Arthah Pendragon t'the likes o' yah." That was it. Arthur issued a low scornful laugh. It was the predatory laugh of an insolent prince reacting to a challenge issued by a peasant for bullying a stable boy. This was reminiscent of an Arthur who existed before he had met his match in Merlin.

"You want to run that by me again?"

A ruckus came from the hall right outside Merlin's door. A thick cockney accent floated on the air. Wilbur! Merlin formulated a plan. If Wilbur was here, he could use the company to temper the hallucinations he was experiencing. He knew Wilbur was real. He knew Wilbur interacted with people around him and that gave Merlin a sort of comfort he never thought possible. He gingerly picked himself up off the ground and limped to the door. He unlocked the bottom knob and stepped out into the hall.

Wilbur's stocky form squared up against the blond man.

"If'n Merlin ain't answering th'door, it's clear 'e don't want nuffin to do wif yah!" Wilbur charged the imaginary Arthur.

 _I could take you apart with less than that._

 _You sure? Here you go, big man. Come on, then. I warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth._

Suddenly Merlin wasn't in twenty-first century Wales, but face to face with a young prince who had just been interrupted from hazing a young stable boy.

"Wilbur don't—," too late. Wilbur charged and Arthur had been more than ready. Wilbur made solid contact. Arthur shifted his feet to the side and sunk his weight down. In one deft move he hooked his arms securely around Wilbur's waist and hoisted him up only to slam him down on the ground. Wilbur gasped, but Arthur took the moment to slip his arms around the man's neck and arm forcing him into a choke hold.

"You couldn't bear the weight a Pendragon carries," Arthur snarled. Merlin stepped forward.

"Merlin, get back!" The ferocity in Arthur's voice halted Merlin.

"It was cold that day, Merlin," Arthur growled, keeping tight hold of Wilbur. "You alone held me in my dying breaths. I remember. I remember the pain etched on your face and with the last of my strength, I thanked you for the years you spent by my side." Wilbur was at the end of his struggle, his face turning red. Merlin stood still, frozen in place by the immense reality of the man before him

"I thanked you for the pain you endured while hiding your magic from me, and I meant it. You were there for me, changing me, growing me," Arthur grunted and gave one more squeeze to Wilbur who promptly slipped into unconsciousness, "you were the stone that tumbled me into the king I became at the end." Arthur shoved Wilbur off of him and he stood tall looking Merlin square in the face.

Merlin blinked tears away.

"I asked you…so many times," he whispered, "to stop being dead." Arthur's blue eyes bore into Merlin's own.

"I heard you."


	6. A Second Note

**Quick authors note: new chapter will be out tomorrow morning before 1100. For those of you who keep track, I'm on HST (Hawaiian standard time), so use that to help you if you'd like.**

 **For those of you who give my story a visit, thank you. Your time is precious to me because you're spending it reading my writing when you could be elsewhere procrastinating important chores. Your readership gives me purpose. Thank you.**

 **Gingeraffealene: thank you for enjoying the humor I was trying to portray. I think that would have been an honest response of Merlin should he have actually been in that sort of situation. I have a few more gems I'm hoping will strike a funny chord with the audience. I do appreciate how involved you are in the reviews. It's pleasant. And as far as the last bit being a bit Sherlocky: it very well could be. I saw a post someone had made of Arthur and Merlin and I borrowed it from there. Kudos to the OP. I can't wait to flesh out Wilbur. There's a lot of dynamics to this situation and I hope to use Wilbur to help Merlin and Arthur see just how good they have it compared to someone whose never had a friend at all.**

 **chemcheminee, your username is dope.**


	7. Chapter 5

A few tears rolled down Merlin's cheeks and then a few more until soon a broken man stood before Arthur sobbing deeply.

"I-I'm angry," Merlin gasped, "I'm angry and I don't know why. I just am. I thought I'd be happy to see you, but now you're here and I don't know if there's still enough of the old me left to for it to matter." Merlin cried harder.

And what could Arthur say? To him it was as if he and Merlin were still on the shore of the Lake. Wasn't it only a day or so ago that he had seen Guinevere, his wife? Oh God, Gwen…there was no way she was still alive…

Arthur choked back his own existential fear. Right now there was only Merlin and himself and he needed to focus.

"You're right. You aren't the Merlin I knew, but neither can I try to be the Arthur you knew. Time changed you, and now I have to change, too," Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulder gently. "I don't have answers, and that's not comforting to either of us, but what is a comfort is that we're here and capable." Arthur clasped a hand to the back of Merlin's head and pressed their foreheads together with force. Merlin breathed deeply grabbing Arthur's tunic and they stood there between times clinging to each other. One was hope and the other loss; a picture of the power of the sun as it breaks through the agony of a mighty tempest. "There's you and me and that has always been enough."


	8. Final Note

It's complete. I left it open so I could come back and explore different avenues. I also really like Wilbur and would like to make a novella, however it would then cross over into OOC territory. I'll let you know.


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